


Quiet Hallways

by AwkwardBlueFish



Category: DC - Fandom, Red Robin - Fandom, Robin - Fandom
Genre: Damian need a hug, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Tim needs a hug, Tims a good brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 16:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20361322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardBlueFish/pseuds/AwkwardBlueFish
Summary: Sometimes Tim wishes he could disappear, then he wouldn’t have to watch as everyone else did it before him. Maybe he just wants to disappear because it’s so damn quiet.The quiet hadn’t sat well for him in a long time. It was quiet when his parents left for trips, it was quiet when they died. It was quiet when Bruce was supposedly dead, it was quiet when Kon, Bart and Stephanie left. It was quiet when Dick took Robin away. It was quiet when he has no one, when he was alone.It was quiet now.”Timothy?”





	Quiet Hallways

**Author's Note:**

> ....I don’t even know where this came from. I just ....wrote it

Tim stirs the metal spoon in the mug, his other hand rubbing over his face and through his hair. He was tired but it was quiet. Tim couldn’t sleep when it was quiet these days.

He pulls the spoon out, tapping it against the side of the mug and gently laying it the sink. For a while he just stares at the vapour swirling into the night, never to be seen again. Tim wondered what it would be like to be never seen again.

He cradles the mug of cocoa in his palms, fingers wrapped around it loosely. Blankly he stares out the window above the window seat. The stars were out tonight. You normally couldn’t see the stars.

His limbs feel heavy as he walks over as if they’re trying to keep him there. In the choking silence, in the abyss. He pushes past it, lowering himself in the plush cushions.

For a second they are hard, barley used. For a second he’s a child again, staring at the stars and waiting for his parents' limo lights to join them in the night sky. For a second, it feels like he’s waiting for his parents to come home.

That’ll never happen. Even if they were still here.

Tim lets out a sigh, hears it end and disappear. Sometimes Tim wishes he could disappear, then he wouldn’t have to watch as everyone else did it before him. Maybe he just wants to disappear because it’s so damn quiet.

The quiet hadn’t sat well for him in a long time. It was quiet when his parents left for trips, it was quiet when they died. It was quiet when Bruce was supposedly dead, it was quiet when Kon, Bart and Stephanie left. It was quiet when Dick took Robin away. It was quiet when he has no one when he was alone.

And it’s a habit of his to sing. To fill in the silence. To pretend his voice is leaving people speechless, to pretend the lyrics where unspoken words meant for him. To pretend he wasn’t so alone.

So he does it. He sings.

The words come to him, just like they always have. He sings out his troubles, his worries, all the good times. He just sings as he stares into the night sky, watches as the stars seem to twinkle to a harmony. 

His limbs feel lighter in a way and he closes his eyes, imagining something, anything. He just sings, and it soothes him. It’s like his own hug. It’s funny how his own voice feels like a hug when it’s quiet and lonely.

“Timothy?” Says a small voice, curious and quiet. 

Tim’s lets his mouth close, a song ending on his lips. He palms his lukewarm mug and peels his eyes opens with a quiet hum.

Damian is standing by the couch, fingers layer in the leather. Tim cocks his head, he knows what that means. He did that an awful lot when he was younger.

He always seemed comfort out of inanimate objects. Like they could protect him like they were a barrier. 

“It is not morning yet,” Tim observes, letting the light of the moonshine through. Damian nods. “Can’t sleep?”

Damian doesn’t say anything, he simply curls his hand tighter against the fabric of the couch before he pulls himself away. He slides up onto the window seat, across from Tim, and pulls his legs close to his chest.

“What are you doing?” He asks and Tim looks out into the night sky beyond the window.

“Stargazing.” He answers simply. Damian shifts but doesn’t pry or question. Tim has no doubt he heard him singing.

“How about something warm?” Tim asks, dragging his head towards Damian again, eyes lingering out the window for a second. “It will help you sleep.”

Damian doesn’t say anything, just turn his gaze to the window. Tim sighs softly and reaches over with a hand. He pries Damian fingers apart, watches his legs fall as Damian turns to gaze at him. Tim gently places his cocoa into his smaller palms.

“It’s cocoa,” Tim says, staring at the cup. “It’s not as good as Alfred’s but it’s okay.”

Damian nods slowly, a frown on his face as he gazes at the cup. He doesn’t take a sip. Tim wasn’t really expecting him too.

“Do Grayson and father always fight like that?” It’s soft, his voice. Almost silent. Damian doesn’t look at him, he simply gazes at the cup.

Tim closes his eyes, breathes in and holds it. Slowly he exhales. “Not anymore. They used to when I was Robin.” Tim ignore the sting in his chest. “They were constantly arguing, they’ve been better. Since you’ve been here.”

It stings to say but it was true. Dick and Bruce? They were constantly at each other's throats. They argued and argued. About Tim, about Jason’s death. About Robin, about them. They even argued when Jason came back if anything it got worse.

And then Damian came along. It dwindled until they could stand to be in the same room. Sometimes they even smiled. Tim’s happy, he is. 

Damian doesn’t say anything to that, simply grips the mug harder. “Why were you singing?” 

“I do that sometimes,” Tim says, not really answering. He goes back and gazes at the window. “I do it when it’s quiet.” When he’s lonely.

“I disturbed you.” Damian murmurs and his face scrunches up like he’s blaming himself.

“No, you didn’t,” Tim responds, looking at Damian.

Dick and Bruce’s fight was about Damian. About his progress, how he’s learning. Who should be his mentor, who should back off. Those two were idiots sometimes. 

They fought loud and hard, long and harsh. Bruce stormed away as Batman, taking his anger out on criminals. Dick gave chase, wanting to rationalise. Their anger blinded them, and they got shot. They got hurt. Hurt enough that Dr Leslie was looking after them in her own ward. Alfred was with them. 

Now Damian was blaming himself.

“It’s okay,” Tim says again. He knows Damian wouldn’t accept his answer. He knows because he wouldn’t if he was in Damian’s place. “I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

Damian finally looks up, he looks at Tim for a split second before gazing at the stars. “Alright.” He finally says, words whispery and quiet. Like the wind could pick them up and take them away.

“You can go to bed, Damian. They’ll be alright.” Tim says softly, eyeing the exhaustion tight in the boys' shoulders.

Sometimes they forgot he was a child. 

“Don’t be silly,” Damian grumbles but it’s light. No threat or annoyance. “I want to stay up with you.”

Tim smiles. In these quiet hallways, it was just them, and for once they had no secrets to hide. It was nice. Maybe a little saddening.

“You really should go to bed, Dami.” Tim insists softly, looking at the limpness of his shoulders and the dead Wright of his arms. He is only a child.

“But I want to hear you sing.” Tim closes his eyes. It’s said so brokenly, so hopefully. Just like he did when he asked his parents to stay. Just for a little bit.

No child should ever sound like that. 

“Okay,” Tim says, cracking open his eyes, “okay.”

And he sings. He sings and sings, not even paying attention to the words. They come easily, naturally. And Damian listens. Listens even as his figure slumps, even as Tim gently pries the cold cocoa out of his hands. He listens until he falls asleep.

Tim looks at his little brother, so young and brave. The moonlight shines on his cheeks and makes his hair lighter and face rounder. Just a child.

Tim’s stands up, exhaustion deep in his bones. His knee cracks and his back hurts but he still carefully cradles Damian in his arms as he lifts him up.

He places his arms around his neck, warps his own around his back and his bottom. He holds him close for a while, staring out the window. It seems star gazing was a good idea tonight.

Tim lets out a breathy laugh. He holds Damian close as he turns away from the window seat. “You know I’ll always be here for you, I’ll be here to protect you.”

The words travel through the quiet manor, slips its way into every nook and cranny. His words are apart of the house, a promise. One that he intends to keep.

Tim eyes Damian and a smile curls across his lips. “Your bedhead is really cute.” He laughs.

Maybe the quiet isn’t so bad. He still decides he prefers the noise though.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it!


End file.
